Illumination
by jane0904
Summary: Following directly from BIRTHDAY, each character has a little introspection or tale to tell ... Please review.
1. River

River watched Mal and Freya through the window of the infirmary, perched high on the catwalk, keeping still so they couldn't see her.

She had almost destroyed it, killed two people with one stroke, for he would not have lived long after if she had died. Oh, his body might have continued to walk and talk, eventually laugh and play, but his spirit, his essence, his very _Mal-ness_, would not have survived.

Simon had said he didn't hold it against her, but that wasn't the point. _She_ held it against her. For being weak enough to let that man … she couldn't even bear to think of his name … to let that man into her mind, to tear her fragile sanity into shreds and tatters, to make her hide from everything and everyone on this ship. From her family. The people who had borne her hadn't loved her like these men and women did. Simon had to – he was her brother – but they loved her because they _chose_ to.

Mal stroked an errant lock of hair from Freya's forehead, and that simple gesture spoke of feelings so deep she didn't have to reach for them. They hung in the air like a green summer mist, shot through with the bright scarlet of passion.

He hadn't fired, hadn't chosen to shoot the bullet that would pulverise her brain, turn her mind into squashed berries, dripping onto the stone tiles. Like blood from a blade. Freya's blood.

She wanted to apologise, take it back, withdraw the edge until there was nothing but a spider's web drawn across her belly, but turning time was not a gift she had. Instead Freya had lain on the cold floor, her hot blood making trailing patterns of death.

Still he hadn't fired. For the rest of her life she would wonder why not. In the depths of nightmares she would wake, seeing his face, the reflection of another's pain, and marvel at his control. She was willing to cut them all to pieces, but he wouldn't kill if he didn't have to. An honourable man.

He was smiling, laughing at something Freya had said. It didn't matter what the words were, the meaning was clear. As he squeezed her hand the green mist was tinted with the gold of desire.

Their children would be strong. A wave of contentment spreading from the point of Serenity out into the 'verse, lighting the dark and keeping the demons at bay.

She'd thought to step into the airlock, press the button and let the shadows take her. Make it something other than pain. But Freya had fought so hard against it, leaving rather than taking them with her, and she could do no less. And she needed to live to feel the guilt, to atone for what she had done, however unwillingly, to feel the agony of the stroke every time she looked into the other woman's eyes …

Mal leaned down and kissed Freya, his lips soft and tender, hers warm and inviting, and she could watch no more. Sliding down the stairs she hurried to her room, but a small voice reached out and stopped her.

Such a little life. So small, so tenuous, so easily torn from this reality. Yet holding on with a grip much tighter than hers. She turned towards it.

Kaylee was sitting on the bed, her breast bare, her baby suckling. Madonna and child, the fulfilment of promise and youth, the great soother. She looked up, saw her standing there, and smiled. A beatific smile, a smile that warmed, a smile that … healed.


	2. Simon

He couldn't sleep. No matter how much he tried, after that first night back in with Kaylee, he'd found himself waking just after midnight, and it was hours before he finally fell back into exhausted unconsciousness. It hadn't improved his temper, either.

"What did you just say?" Kaylee asked, her eyes wide in disbelief.

He stared at her, honestly trying to remember. "I … what? What was that to say?"

"How could you?" she said, her face screwing up before she got awkwardly to her feet and ran out of the dining area.

Simon watched her go, then looked back at the rest of the crew. "What?" he asked.

Mal barely managed to contain himself. "Doctor, I know you've been through a lot, but that's no excuse for saying that to little Kaylee."

"Oh, Simon," Inara agreed, shaking her head in saddened shock.

"I don't … what did I say?" Simon glared at them. "I don't understand why she's so …"

"Simon, Kaylee may be under the influence of post-natal depression," Zoe pointed out, not unkindly, "but you don't have to make things so much worse."

"I don't understand," he repeated.

Jayne pointed his table knife at him and growled. "If'n you weren't needed right now, to tend to Frey, I'd throw you out the airlock myself, no matter what the Cap here said." It was perfectly clear the big man would rather bury the knife in the younger man than not, right up to the hilt.

"No, look, I really don't know –"

"I think you'd better go apologise," Mal interrupted.

"For what?"

"Don't go thinking that was a suggestion."

Simon pushed his chair back and jumped to his feet. "I wish someone would tell me what the _niou-se_ I'm supposed to have said!" He strode out of the galley.

"Sir, I really think he doesn't know," Zoe said, looking at her captain.

"I'm beginning to think you're right," Mal agreed. "Could be he's under some stress at the moment, all he's been through."

"But to upset Kaylee like that? And not go after her straight away?"

Mal shrugged. "Maybe one of us should talk to River. She seems to know what's going on in that brother of hers mind more'n most."

"One of us, sir?"

"I was thinking of you."

"I gathered that."

"Now, Zoe, I don't want to have to make it an order, and it ain't because I don't want to. But that girl runs away at my footsteps, let alone when she sees me." Mal tried a smile. "Be doing me a favour."

"I'll speak to her," Inara offered quickly. "I can't bear to see Mal beg like this."

"I coulda taken a bit more," Jayne put in.

---

"He doesn't know," River said, pulling her knees into her chest. "He didn't know what he said. Didn't remember. Trying to blot out the words he used before means he doesn't remember the words he uses now."

"Sweetie, I don't understand."

"Neither does he." She turned her large, dark eyes on the Companion. "He would call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, if he could remember the name."

"And he really doesn't know what he said to Kaylee?"

"Doesn't know half of what he says. Sounds like someone else." She laughed, and the sound trickled uncomfortably down Inara's spine. "Heard him." She tapped her skull. "Heard him in here. But not before. Just a marshmallow fog before, all sticky."

Inara watched tears run down the young girl's cheeks and pulled her into a hug. "It's all right, River. Everyone knows it wasn't your fault."

"It was my body, and I couldn't tell it not to." She leaned into the other woman, feeling the compassion radiating from her. "He should have shot me. Bullet in the brain pan."

"Who, Mal?"

"Quick. Easy. Clean. Squish."

"No, River," Inara said, pushing the girl away so she could look into her liquid eyes. "Never easy. And he wouldn't do it, not unless he had to."

"I killed her."

Inara sighed. "Oh, River. No, you didn't. She's in the infirmary right now. She's alive."

"Killed her in my mind."

"That was someone else. Not you." She moved the dark hair away from the young girl's face. "Let it go."

"Easy to say. Sword through and through."

Inara felt her face flush. "Yes. I know it's easy to say. And so hard to forgive yourself."

"I'm sorry," River said quickly, more tears falling. "I didn't mean … he's so close, I don't know what I'm saying."

"It's all right," Inara said, taking her back into her arms. "Hush. It's all right."

---

Inara searched for Simon, finding him in the most unlikeliest of places. He was sitting in her shuttle, on the very edge of the red satin sofa, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He stood up, almost to attention, as she entered.

"I … do you mind? I've been waiting for you."

"Not at all. And I've been looking for you."

"For me?"

She motioned him to sit and joined him, close but not touching. Not yet. "I think you need someone to talk to, right now. I presume you haven't been to see Kaylee?"

"I tried. She wouldn't open the door, just shouted at me to leave her alone." The unhappiness was so evident on his face, in his body language. "What did I say?" Simon asked. "What did I say to Kaylee to make her … to hurt her like that?"

Inara took a breath. "You said that you wished Bethany had never been born."

All the blood drained from Simon's face, and for a moment she thought he was going to faint. "I … please tell me I didn't."

Inara nodded slowly. "But it was the way you said it, so cold, so distant …"

"Please, stop." Simon dropped his head into his hands. "Oh, God, how could I say that? I don't think that, you have to believe me."

"Simon, if we thought you did, you'd have been … well, I'm sure Mal would have found some imaginative way of getting rid of you. Probably very painfully."

"He should have," Simon said, tears dripping through his fingers. "I deserve it."

"No you don't."

"He would have been in the right. And before, both him and Zoe, telling me they'd kill me if … maybe I _should_ leave."

Inara shook her head firmly. "No. And you know neither of them meant it. They were … under stress."

"My fault."

"Oh, Simon. What is it about the Tams that makes them want to make everything their responsibility?"

"It is!" he insisted, wiping his cheeks with his hands. "They've threatened to kill me so often, but this time … Mal would have done it."

"No."

"How can you know that?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Because I know the man. And so do you. He was watching the woman he loves die, as far as he knew. What wouldn't a man say in that position?"

"God, and I told Kaylee …" Fresh tears burst from his eyes, and he looked at her with such distress on his face that it cut into her like a Reaver blade. "How could I even consider that, let alone …" He glanced out of the door. "What must she be thinking?" He stood up.

"No, no," Inara said quickly, grabbing his arm. "Not right now. We need to talk before you try and see Kaylee again."

He glared down at her but his angry gaze softened, and he collapsed back onto the red satin. "What do I do, Inara?" he asked. "How do I make this better?"

"Time," the composed woman said. "And talking. Simon, a Companion isn't just someone who has sex with a client. She – or he – is also a Counsellor, trained to help and assist people in pain. Most of the time it isn't so obvious, but most of the individuals we engage with need some comfort other than the physical."

"I don't need –"

"Yes, you do. What else have you said, or done, but forgotten?"

He stared at her. "I … how can I tell?"

"Let me help you, Simon. Let me bring you peace."

"How long?" he asked, swallowing back the emotions that threatened to drown him. "How long are you prepared to sit and listen to me?"

"As long as it takes." She smiled at him. "You're my friend, Simon. My family."

He wiped his nose on the back of his hand, a gesture so young that it made her heart go out to him even more.

"Thank you." His voice was so soft she could hardly hear it.

"Then I think you should start by telling me what you remember."

He shook his head. "I don't –"

"Yes," she said firmly. "From when they started their treatment."

He shuddered but tried to gather his thoughts. "I was cold. And there was this chair …"


	3. Jayne

She hadn't come down for a meal since they'd got back from Osiris, or if she had, she'd sneaked around grabbing something when no-one was looking. Couldn't be having that. So he waited up, playing card games. He'd gotten fed-up playing Beat the Clock, and had gone onto Patience before she slid around the door frame.

"There's a tray over there if'n you want it," Jayne said, not looking up.

"Hungry," she said.

"Must be. Ain't eating much, if anything."

Keeping her distance, almost hugging the wall, River hurried behind the counter, finding the food he'd put aside for her and eating quickly.

Jayne concentrated on the cards in front of him, only listening to the sound of her chewing, hiding between the cabinets like a wild animal. After a minute she stood up, looking at him sitting at the table, his bottle of bourbon and two mugs next to him. "Wanna play cards?" he asked, placing the red eight on the black nine.

"Don't you want me to talk?" River gazed at him, chewing on the last piece of bread before swallowing.

"Nope. Figure everyone else has tried that, so you ain't gonna want me to do the same." He turned over the next card, stared at it for a moment then placed it down on the small stack. "Don't look like this one's gonna pan out," he added conversationally.

River moved a little closer and looked over his shoulder. "Put this pile there …" She pointed. "… and then you can start a new one with the ace."

"Thanks. Didn't notice that one." He did as she suggested.

"Why are you here?"

He glanced up at her for the first time, seeing the dark shadows under her eyes, the paleness of an already pale complexion, the way her cheeks were sunken in slightly. "You getting all metaphysical on me?"

He saw her lips twitch slightly. "Have you been reading the dictionary again?" she asked.

"Nah. But can't help but pick up a few long words living on this boat." He picked up his mug and waved it at her. "Not sure I understand the meaning of most of 'em, but I can use 'em as well as the next man." He took a mouthful of alcohol and felt it burn its way down his throat.

"You didn't answer."

He studied her, the loose white top that looked like she'd worn it for days, the tight black shorts, her hair hanging in greasy bangs around her face. "You're brother's gettin' counselling from 'Nara, so I figured you might just want some company." He poured a little bourbon in the spare mug. "Here." He held it out to her.

"Why?"

"Look, if you don't want a drink, that's fine. Just being neighbourly." He went to pour the contents into his own mug but she had snatched it out of his fingers before he could complete the action.

"No." She sat down carefully on the chair next to him, hugging the mug to her. "I meant why would you think I needed company."

"Oh, I don't figure you _need_ anything, moonbrain. You're too all-fire independent for that. No matter your mind is off with the fairies most of the time, but I know you can look after yourself."

"I didn't," she whispered.

"No, well, on the odd occasion you can't, that's what you have families for." Jayne threw the cards onto the table in disgust. "Ain't working out. Better to start again."

"Start again," she echoed.

"Yeah." He collected the boards and started to shuffle. "Lay 'em all out again, start from scratch. Easy."

"Easy."

"Bit like life, I guess." His lips curved a little. "Had me so many new starts, I kinda lost track. Last one was coming on board here, taking the job Mal offered. Though for the life of me I ain't sure why I did."

"Bed and board."

He laughed. "Yeah, guess it was mostly that."

"But that wasn't the last." She sipped the bourbon. "Ariel."

He flushed. "That was … I was stupid."

"Money was too good."

"Mal coulda spaced me, was going to, I know that for a fact." He thought back to that day, standing in the outer airlock, hearing the air whistling past the opening, knowing that, any moment, he was going to be sucked out, his blood boiling out his ears. "But he gave me a second chance. Still don't know why."

"Because you repented of your weakness."

He glared at her. "Now you're trying to sound like the Preacher."

"I miss him," she said softly.

"Yeah, me too, moonbrain."

They sat for a moment, remembering Book and the odd, hopeful effect he'd had on them all.

"Lots of second chances," River finally murmured.

"That's what every day is." Jayne placed the shuffled deck on the table, aligning the edges carefully. "Chance to make things right. Stop things going wrong."

"I made things go wrong." Her voice was so pale it sounded like a ghost.

"Guess you did."

She stared at him. "That's …"

"Ain't that what you wanted to hear?" He turned to look into her face. "Most womenfolk I know just want me to agree with 'em. How come you're different?"

"I …"

"You know it weren't your fault, River." He didn't reach out to touch her, didn't take her hand. "Weren't like you said to that Lon, here I am, take me, do with me what the _diyu_ you like. Turn me back into some kinda killing machine." He paused. "Did ya?"

"No."

"Then how can it be your fault?"

"I let him."

"Just lay there, did ya? Agreed with everything he said? Guess you didn't fight him?" Jayne shook his head. "I know he took something of yours, took that control you've been building up, brick by brick. And it's hard. I know. Been times in my life I've lost … things, people. Ya asked me once what I was running away from. Well, that's one. Losing … something." He paused, pushing his own memories back where they belonged. "And control is something none of us like to give up."

"I couldn't stop it."

"And you woulda, if you could." Jayne poured the last of his bourbon down his throat. "We all know that, even Mal, and he ain't exactly the sharpest pencil in the box."

This time a smile actually flitted across the young psychic's face before she said, "Called me River."

"That's your name, ain't it?"

"Never used it before."

"Well, ain't likely to ever again, so don't go getting used to it."

"Jayne, I …" She sniffed. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"Hell, if it's that bad, I'll stop."

"No, don't." She sniffed again. "Just wondered why."

"I guess it's 'cause I missed ya, ya _sha gua chun_ _zi_. Hangin' round me, annoyin' me. Got kinda used to you."

She stared at him then burst into silent tears.

He gathered the weeping girl into his arms, lifting her up as if she weighed nothing, and carried her over to the easy chair in the corner. Sitting back, he held her, letting her cry until his t-shirt stuck to his skin, letting her purge herself of the pain, the emotion, not saying a word. Eventually she cried herself out, slipping into a dreamless sleep, pillowed against his chest. He could have taken her back to her room, but somehow the thought that she might wake, cold and alone, ate at him. So he just settled himself back, holding the girl to him, and closed his eyes. Just so long as he woke before anyone else came in and got entirely the wrong idea.


	4. Mal

"Mal?"

"Uh huh?" Serenity's captain straightened from where he was moving crates in the cargo bay. "What can I do for you, doctor?"

Simon stepped down from the doorway to the common area. "Can I … could we speak?"

"Not Freya, is it?" Mal asked, tensing, looking past the young man towards the infirmary.

"No, no, she's fine. In fact, you can maybe take her back to her … your bunk in the next day or two. Although probably the guest quarters would be better. Less ladders."

"Yeah. Good. Shiny." Mal relaxed somewhat. "So, what do you want to talk to me about?"

"Everything."

Mal knew this had been coming, but that still didn't make it any easier. "Everything?" he repeated, making a joke of it. "That'll take a bit more time than our allotted three score and ten, don't you think?"

"I've been speaking with Inara." The young man was not to be sidetracked.

"Yeah. Figure everyone on board knows that by now."

"She's been helping me see … what I did."

"What you did is save Freya's life. And Hank's, although as he don't sleep in my bed that ain't exactly as dear to me."

"I'm serious, Mal."

Mal sighed. "Yeah, I know. And I apologise for not taking it that way." He sat down on one of the crates and nodded towards another. "Better take the weight off your feet if we're gonna have that kind of conversation."

"I wouldn't have let her die," Simon said, sitting down carefully.

"I know that."

"Yet you felt the need to threaten me."

Mal looked at the young man, so stiff and formal, even now. "It weren't so much a threat. More a … an encouragement."

"You said you'd finish what Lon started."

Mal could still feel the blood on his hands. "I was reminding you, is all."

"And if … if she had died?"

Mal shook his head. "She didn't. You saved her life."

"If I hadn't?" Simon insisted. "Would you have killed me?"

Mal looked at him for a moment, his blue eyes thoughtful. "Can't say, doctor. I'm really hoping we never find out, but right now … I can't say."

"I've been threatened a lot of times on this ship." Simon glanced down at his hands. "Right from the start."

"Well, you do have a propensity to attract that kind of criticism," Mal said lightly. "'Sides, that first time it really was your fault."

"I didn't shoot Kaylee!"

"Dobson was after _you_."

"You were threatening me!"

Mal, about to continue the bickering, took a breath instead. "Well, whatever, you saved her life, so that cancels it out."

"Is that how it works?" Simon asked, belligerence creeping into his voice. "You think I caused something, I do my work and we're even?"

"Something like that," Mal agreed. "And don't start getting tetchy with me, boy. You were the one wanted to talk."

Simon stared at him, then nodded. "I did. And I'm not a boy."

"No, guess you ain't." Mal glanced towards the other quarters. "Got yourself a wife-to-be and a baby now, so I guess we can call you a man."

"Wife-to- …" Simon's mouth hung open. "What are you –"

"Been letting that slide for a while, on account of Kaylee not pushing it, but you're gonna marry that girl. Ain't having no sinful living on my ship."

This time Simon couldn't stop himself. "Sinful …" He leaped to his feet. "You and Freya are … you were …"

"And we were planning on getting married," Mal pointed out, his eyes twinkling. "Still am, soon as I can get the pig-headed woman to name the day. But I don't see you making no plans."

"Kaylee doesn't want to get married."

"You asked her lately?"

"Well, not –"

"Don't you think you should?"

"Mal, I'm not even sure I should be with her, let alone …"

"Be with her?" This time Mal laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the cargo bay. "Simon, I ain't never seen a couple more suited, and believe me, I wouldn't say that lightly. You know how I feel about shipboard romances."

"But I betrayed you all!" Simon's words cut through the humour, and hung in the air.

"Yeah. Reckon that's what this is all about," Mal said quietly. "Sit down." When Simon didn't move, he repeated, "Sit."

Simon let himself down onto the crate.

"Now, I'm not 'Nara, and I don't pretend to be. Most 'cause I'd never get into one of those dresses, and don't think I haven't tried." Mal put his hand up to stem Simon's inevitable interruption. "The point is I know she's told you to talk to me. Get this out in the open. Well, okay. We can do that. We can talk until the cows come home but it ain't gonna change what happened. Yeah, you betrayed us. So what?"

"What?" Simon was confused.

"If you'd gone to that man, offered your services, said you'd tell him what he wanted to know for money, we wouldn't be having this conversation, on account of your dried and desiccated corpse floating somewhere in orbit around Osiris. And I wouldn't have thought twice about it." Mal let that sink in for a moment. "But you didn't. It took drugs and torture to make you, and you fought them at every step."

"You don't know that."

"Hell, course I do, Simon!" The grin on Mal's face floored him. "You ain't weak. Figured that out first time you told us what you'd done for your sister. Makes it worse, though, doesn't it? If you're weak you can blame that, but if you're not, there's nothing left to blame but yourself."

"Are you trying to flatter me?" Simon asked at last.

"Nope. Wouldn't know how. I'm just saying it like it is. Now, you're gonna tear yourself up about this, and nothing anyone can do or say is gonna stop you. I know. After Serenity Valley, I felt like I'd betrayed all the men and women I'd ever known, watched 'em die because I wasn't strong enough to keep 'em alive. Thought about eating a bullet more'n once. But I didn't. Not 'cause it was against my religion, not no more. Mainly it was because I had Zoe at my side, but it was also because I knew it wasn't my fault. Least, not entirely."

Simon watched him, saw the difficulty this strong man had in admitting to weakness of his own. "You got through it."

Mal smiled sadly. "Some might disagree with you on that score, doctor. More'n one has made it clear to me that I never left there."

"But you've got Freya …"

"I have. And that's what's made more difference than I would care to admit. And sometimes that's the only thing that's keeping me from shooting you dead when you rile me."

Simon stared, then realised there was humour in his eyes. "I gather that happens a lot."

"Least once a day," Mal admitted. "That's why Freya keeps my guns locked up. Says I can't be trusted."

The very thought of Freya not letting Mal have access to his own guns was enough, and Simon laughed. "She's very perceptive," he said, smiling.

"That she is. Although annoying is the phrase I'd tend to use. And I'd be obliged if you could make sure she stays around to keep doing it."

"So you want me to stay."

"Don't recall saying that."

"But you just ..." Now Simon was really confused.

Mal put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Just told you like it is. No, I don't want you to go, and partly it's for purely selfish reasons. And I'm not gonna say I'll never threaten you again, because that's a pie-crust promise. But whether you stay or not is your own choice." He stood up. "Kinda got used to having you around, doctor. And Kaylee'd mope for a few days if you left." He sighed. "Still, I reckon Jayne'd console her."

Simon jumped up. "Jayne?" He glared up into the taller man's face. "Over my dead body."

"Good." Mal smiled and gave him a slight push. "Now go say all this to that little girl in there, before she does something really stupid."

Simon gaped, then turned away, heading purposefully towards his quarters.

Mal watched him until he disappeared, then shook his head, smiling. Maybe Inara's dresses didn't suit him as well as he'd've liked, but he was pretty good at this counselling lark all the same.


	5. Kaylee

Kaylee was humming as she changed Bethany. Nothing in particular, just some soothing lullaby she'd heard once.

"Can I come in?" Simon asked, standing outside the nursery.

Her humming stopped and she barely glanced at him. "If you want."

He didn't move, just stood and watched her. He wasn't surprised – since his total mental aberration of a few days before, they'd hardly said a word to each other. In fact, she'd been sleeping in the nursery with Bethany, and knowing she was just a few inches away at night was killing him.

"I've been talking to Inara," he said quietly.

Kaylee slipped the one-piece back onto Bethany. "That ain't a secret. Serenity's not big enough to keep secrets. 'Cept maybe why you've changed."

"I haven't changed."

"Oh?" She turned on him, her eyes blazing. "Sayin' you wished Bethany had never been born ain't changed?"

"I didn't!" he insisted. "I mean I didn't mean it!" He stepped inside, preferring to face her wrath than live with the dreadful silences there had been between them.

"Then why did you say it?" Kaylee tried to keep her voice down, but she couldn't. "She nearly died, Simon. Your daughter _nearly died_ 'cause you weren't there. And all I could think was that you'd never see her, never know how beautiful she was." Tears rolled down her cheeks, all the anger and despair she'd felt finally coming to the surface.

"Kaylee …" He reached out for her but she batted his hands away.

"Don't! I grieved for you, thinking you weren't coming back!" Her voice was rising. "Then you turned away from us!"

Simon tried to stop her. "Kaylee, I didn't mean it!"

Bethany, hearing the shouts, did what any baby would do, and wailed. Instantly her mother had turned to her, scooping her up from the bed. "Shh, shh," she crooned, rocking her gently.

"Is she all right?" Simon asked, stepping closer, reaching out.

"Go away," Kaylee hissed. "You ain't her father. If you were, you wouldn't have spoken like that about her." Her face was red as she looked at him. "Get out."

Simon backed up, almost falling over the sill, and Kaylee slid the door across with a thud, leaving him staring at it. Slowly he turned, leaned against the wall and slid down, his heart near breaking point. He was such a _tah mah duh hwoon dahn_, a _go tsao duh_ idiot, a … a … his knowledge of Mandarin curses let him down. He was all of them, and much more. And now he was on the verge of losing the woman he loved more than anything.

"Kaylee?" he called. He didn't know if she was listening, but he had to try. And for once he really didn't care if the rest of the ship was listening. "I'm stupid." He paused. "There's a long, complicated medical name for it, but what it boils down to is … I'm stupid." He half turned so he was leaning his face on the wall. "I wouldn't admit I had a problem, not until I said that. Truth is, I don't even remember saying it, and it's agony not knowing what else I said, or did, to you that I don't remember. All I can say is … it wasn't me, Kaylee. It wasn't me saying that."

He moved closer, ignoring the dirt and dust he was picking up on his pants. "When I saw her sleeping in that damn crib Jayne made, I … I just wanted to hold her forever. My daughter. My child, Kaylee. I've never had a child, never even come close. There was no-one, not in all those years studying or working at the hospital that ever meant enough to me. Not until I came here. Not until I met you."

He put his head back against the wall. "First time I saw you, sitting outside a dirty, broken-down looking ship, I felt something move inside me that I thought had been dead for a long time. That crazy sunshade, that little jacket you had on … I could describe every detail, every colour. I can even tell you that the polish on your toenails was chipped, but only on your right big toe." He smiled. "I could have gone with the Brutus, or the Calliope, or any of the other ships, newer and safer looking. I didn't know about Capisson 8 engines then. But I didn't. I chose this one. This Firefly. Because I'd fallen in love with the barker outside."

There was silence from inside the cabin, but it was a listening silence, and Simon felt strangely encouraged.

"Everything you've ever said to me, every word and gesture, I remember. That teddy bear on your coveralls, the way you said my name for the first time, that habit you've got of talking to Serenity as if she was alive … like the time I was telling you about when I graduated, and I got drunk and naked, and you said you couldn't picture it … I wish I'd had the nerve to tell you then that I was picturing _you_ naked. But I was stupid. Only seeing one goal, and not what I really wanted." He licked his lips. "You, Kaylee. It's always been you."

He thought she was just inside the door, and moved forward, putting his cheek against the carbon sheeting, lowering his voice a little. "I thought you were going to kill me when I reacted so badly when you told me you were pregnant. It was a shock, and I was … well, I've already used the word stupid a couple of times, but it fits. Seeing your face, your tears … I would have done anything to take back what I'd said. And the first time I saw Bethany on that scan, when your tears were joyful, I wanted to hold that moment in my heart forever."

By now his voice was barely above a whisper. "I wanted to be the one to deliver her, to catch that life in my hands as she left your body, still connected to you but her own person. I wanted to lift her up, show her to the stars and shout that she was my child. I wish with all my heart that I could have been there, helping you, taking the pain for you. But I wasn't, and I am so sorry for that."

Tears were dripping from his nose, his chin. "She's perfect. Our Bethany. Yours and mine." He wiped his face on his sleeve. "Don't you think we've lost enough on this ship? Wash, Book, Alice …" He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I can't lose you too." He moved forward, his lips almost touching the door. "I love you, Kaylee. And I love Bethany."

It seemed to be an age but the door slowly opened. He looked up into Kaylee's face, as wet as his own. She reached out a hand towards him. He took it, his own trembling slightly, and got to his feet.

"Serenity isn't dirty," she said quietly. "Nor broken down."

"I know," he said, looking at her. "You taught me that." He touched her face, smoothing away the tears. "You've taught me so much."

"You?" She half-smiled. "Mr Top Three Percent?"

"Being intelligent doesn't mean you can't be stupid too."

"No. Seems like you keep proving that." She bit her lip. "You mean everything you just said?"

"Every word," he promised.

"You're gonna remember everything you just said?"

His lips twitched. "I'll never forget."

"And I can bring it up when we fight?" Her brown eyes were glimmering with more unshed tears.

"Every time."

She gazed at him for a moment, then said, "Oh, Simon …" and stepped into his arms.


	6. Hank

Hank was reading, some trashy novel he'd picked up on his last buying trip, on his back, his head resting on one arm. He couldn't much lie on his side yet, what with the bullet wound still healing, but he was glad to be back in his bunk. The fact that it had taken Jayne to help him down the ladder still rankled, but he'd live with that. Truth was, he couldn't stand being around the infirmary any longer, not with Mal spending so much time there. As much as he liked the captain, him and Freya together getting all lovey dovey were sometimes more than a body could stand.

He turned the next page, wanting to see what Clint did to make Emily fall for him, and wondered idly whether it would work with Zoe.

"Can I come down?"

Hank jerked, hearing the first mate's voice just when he was thinking about her, and groaned a little as the injury pulled. "Um, yeah, sure," he managed to say.

Zoe climbed sedately down the ladder, and Hank watched first her feet, then her thighs and hips, her torso and arms, and finally her beautiful face appear. He blushed a little at the impure thoughts racing around his libido.

"Hank," she said without preamble. "We need to talk."

"Oh. Right." He put the book down on his hips, trying to hide the slight arousal he was feeling. "What about?"

"Us."

"Us?" he yelped, twitching again. Through gritted teeth he added, "Is there an 'us'?"

"If you keep doing that you're going to open up that hole again," Zoe warned, pulling the one chair in the bunk across and sitting down. "And thanks, I will take the weight off my feet."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Ain't too comfortable, though."

"It's fine." She stared at him until he started to feel nervous. "You heard what I said in the infirmary," she remarked finally.

"What?" Hank just couldn't stop the twitching. "When?"

"You weren't unconscious, not quite."

"Um, sorry, Zoe, but I don't know what you're talking about." He looked bewildered.

She gazed at him, calculating the odds that he was actually telling the truth. "Right."

"What … what did you say?" Hank asked, honestly intrigued.

"Nothing," Zoe said quickly, standing up and putting the chair back. "It was nothing. Just hoping you'd make it, is all."

"And you came down here to see if I'd heard."

"Yes. And to check you were … keeping well." Even to her own ears that sounded pretty feeble.

"As well as can be expected," he agreed.

"Good."

"Thanks."

"Yes."

"Shiny."

She turned and headed back towards the ladder.

"Unless you were meaning you telling Simon he was to save my life or you'd kill him."

Zoe stopped. Hank watched her lift her head, almost like a lioness scenting blood. Or prey. She span slowly on her heel to look at him.

He grinned. "Was that it?" he asked.

"You said you hadn't heard."

"Well, at the time I figured I was dreaming. Did 'til you came down here." His grin got wider. "Does this mean you ain't hating me no more?"

"No, it means you are not to say anything to anyone." She approached the bed again. "To _anyone_, _dong mah_?"

"Why not? Simon knows." He lay back and laughed. "Hell, it's something I want to shout."

"You will not shout," Zoe said quietly, every word clearly enunciated. "You will not tell a soul."

He shook his head. "Why not?" He gazed into her dark eyes. "It's kinda nice."

"No, it isn't. And I didn't mean it."

"So you'd have been okay if Simon's hand'd slipped and he'd sliced my jugular open?"

"Your jugular's in your neck. He'd have been more likely to cut your aorta. Or possibly your renal artery." She leaned forward. "I can show you if you like."

"Whichever, it would have been messy. And you're changing the subject."

"I just …" For once in her life Zoe was floundering. Well, maybe not the first time. But certainly since Wash had died. "I didn't want Mal to have to find a new pilot," she said finally.

"Why can't you just admit you like me?" Hank asked.

"Because I don't."

"Didn't want me to die."

"That … I explained that."

"Bought me that armour."

"Which you weren't even wearing." Zoe felt a trickle of righteous anger like a thread of ice water. "And why was that?"

He wriggled uncomfortably. "Look, it isn't what you –"

"Why weren't you wearing it?"

Hank blushed again. "It rubs."

"What?"

"It rubs," he admitted. "But that doesn't change the point that you bought it for me. Musta thought something to do that."

"I … look, Hank, I'm still in love with Wash. I always will be." Zoe looked almost apologetic.

"I know," he assured her. "And funnily enough I ain't trying to take his place. Couldn't do that." He struggled to sit more upright but only managed to make the wound in his chest pull, and he hissed in pain.

Instantly Zoe was on her feet, holding his shoulders in one strong arm, arranging the pillows behind him with the other. He could smell her, the leather soap she used on her waistcoat, the slight odour of gunpowder, and the unexpected hint of Jasmine. It lit fires inside him.

"Better?" she asked, letting him lean back.

"Um, yeah." He took a deep breath. "Thanks."

"You were saying?"

"Oh, right." He tried to pull himself together. "Look, Zo, if I could I'd stop being a pilot for you. 'Cause I know that's one of the problems between us – he was Serenity's pilot, and so am I. But what else could I be? You know I ain't handy with a gun – proved that too often for it to be funny no more."

"I could teach you," she suggested.

"What?"

"How to shoot. Not like the Alliance tried, but properly. The kind of shooting that actually works."

"You mean where I actually hit people?" He shook his head slightly. "Ain't too sure about that."

"Better'n letting them hit you."

He reddened a little. A few months before he'd taken his life into his hands and explained to Zoe something of his former life, about having been married once himself, only losing her. Then joining the Alliance to fight in the war with the one aim of getting himself shot. "Kinda got over that," he said. "And if this is anything to go by, I did the right thing."

"You were lucky." She lifted her eyebrows at him. "And what do you mean, the armour rubs?"

"It's too …" He stopped, embarrassed.

"Too what?"

"It's too long," he said quickly. "It rubs my … my man parts."

Zoe tried not to smile, and her lips only twitched slightly. "You have man parts?"

"Hell, you should know. You tried to make them disappear with that damn bed bath while I was sick." He shivered at just the remembrance of the ice cold water soaking into his pyjama pants.

"Well, you pissed me off."

"Wouldn't want to do that again," he muttered. When she didn't answer he looked into her face and realised she didn't think that was funny. "Not that I'd do it again, ever," he said hurriedly. "Piss you off, I mean. Not the bed bath. Although I'd rather you didn't. Did nothing for my reputation."

"I wouldn't know," Zoe said, deadpan. "I wasn't looking."

"Of course you were."

"Are you saying I'm lying?"

Hank held up his hands. "I would never do that. Not without my armour on."

"Speaking of which, you're a fool. Someone buys you something to save your life, and you don't wear it."

"I told you –"

"I heard. And what did you expect? It wasn't tailor made for you. Must have been a bigger man entirely."

"Not that big, 'cause it would have rubbed his man –"

"I meant taller."

"Right." He looked at her. "Why did you? Buy it for me, I mean?"

"Captain thought it was a good idea."

"He didn't pay for it. I know. I asked. He told me you said you were going to buy it, asked for his opinion then went and bought it anyway. He said it wouldn't have mattered what he said."

"You've been talking about me behind my back?"

"Look, Zoe, why don't you just shoot me now? I ain't gonna win, so just get it over with," Hank said in exasperation, lying his head back and closing his eyes. "Go ahead. Right in the temple. Only be careful and make sure you don't miss."

"I never miss." She waited for a long moment until he opened one eye. "And I ain't gonna shoot you."

He grinned. "See, I knew you liked me."

"But I could be persuaded to change my mind."

Hank sighed. "Don't. I mean, don't shoot me. I just … I care about you," he admitted, suddenly very serious. "I know you ain't … you can't feel the same way, and I understand. I can never measure up to your husband, and I never will. That's the problem with having a wife … a husband that dies on you. You only ever remember the good parts, and not the niggles. No-one ever comes close. Least, not for a good long while." He lifted himself up onto his elbow, ignoring the pain in his chest. "But I seen you, Zoe. From the moment I set foot on this wreck I watched you, and you're … well, if I could have you I'd be the luckiest man in the 'verse."

"She's not a wreck, and better not let the Captain or Kaylee hear you say that."

Hank lay back, shaking his head. "See, that's where we part company. I try and tell you how I feel, and you go all … first matey on me."

Zoe looked at him, his brown hair all mussed, his grey eyes staring into the ceiling, and felt a frisson of something. A little like recognition, and a lot like anxiety. "Hank, I'm not ready," she said quietly. "I don't want to get married again – it's not in my plans for a good long while, if at all. I thought Wash and me, that we'd be forever. Only forever turned out to end too soon."

He turned his deep eyes on her. "Then let me court you."

"What?"

"Let me take you out to dinner once in a while. We can have breakfast – but nothing in between," he added hurriedly. "Just be friends. See if you get to like me more."

"Hank –"

"Just think about it. Please? For a dying man?"

"You ain't dying."

"You can, you know. From a broken heart." He sighed dramatically, covering his face with his arm.

She couldn't stop the smile this time. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"

"Nope," he smiled, looking at her from under his wrist. "What's the point? Mal does that all too much for the rest of us."

"He's the Captain."

"So? Does that mean he can't have a little fun once in a while?"

"Do you sleep with earplugs in?" she asked in turn, and Hank actually blushed a little.

"Yeah, well, okay. He has fun. But it's taken a woman to get him there." He smiled encouragingly at her. "Don't you think it could be nice? You know, you and me? Just being friends?"

She shook her head, smiling ruefully. "You won't stop until I say yes, will you?"

"Absolutely not." He grinned. "I'm like a rash that won't go away."

"Simon has things for that. Perhaps I should suggest he makes a house call."

"Just so long as you can nurse me back to health."

"Do you want another bed bath?"

Hank cringed. "Uh, no."

"Then just take what you can get."

"And what's that?"

"Friends. That's all." Zoe stood up. "Now I have things to do."

"First matey things?"

"Yes. So you just lie there and get better. Otherwise it's no fun kicking you." She went to the ladder. "I might come back later. If you'd like."

He nodded, so hard it looked as if his head might come clean off his shoulders. "I'd like."

She smiled. "Then I'll let you get back to that book." She started up the ladder.

"Thanks," he called.

"No problem." Then, just before she disappeared, she leaned over and said, "By the way, Clint runs off with Emily's stepmother and ends up working for a pirate before coming over all remorseful and dying in her arms." She stepped out of the hatch.

Hank stared at her then picked up the book, thumbing quickly to the last page. "Gorramit!" he said, throwing the book at the wall in disgust.


	7. Bethany

She was warm, and safe. And when you're little more than a week old, that's more or less all that matters. Oh, and fed. And changed occasionally, although that end tends to deal with itself.

But even that young, you tend to know when something isn't right. Particularly if it involves loud noises. And the loud noise coming from the pinkish blob that supplied food was not a happy noise. Bethany wailed. Immediately she felt hands around her, and movement through the air, before being enfolded into warmth. She could tell it was her mother, although the word meant nothing, simply from the scent. There was some sound, a pleasant whispering that soothed, and she stopped crying, just enjoying being held. She didn't even mind it when the blob put her back in the small area, that smelled of someone else, but not unpleasant.

She started to doze, but something woke her up. She could feel tension, and she filled her lungs to wail again.

Suddenly something was in front of her, not the pink blob she knew, but another, someone different, a different smell. She was about to cry, but stopped. It picked her up, holding her tenderly, and all at once she felt secure. This was nice. No point in crying when it felt as nice as this. All friendly. All safe.

Simon picked up his daughter just as she was taking breath to fill Serenity once more with the wail of a distressed baby, holding her to him secure in his arms, stroking her head.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Nothing's going to hurt you. I'll see to that."

Bethany opened sky blue eyes on him, filled with such contentment that he gasped.

"Simon?" Kaylee asked, stepping close to look down at their daughter.

"She's beautiful," he said, love filling him to the very top of his head.

"I told you she was," Kaylee said, putting her arms around them both and smiling.


	8. Zoe

Zoe stepped off the ladder into her bunk and sighed. Long day. Longer night to come. And probably very little rest in it. She tugged off her waistcoat, pushing her boots off, and stared at the picture of Wash on the dresser.

"I don't know what's come over me," she admitted, picking up one of the small dinosaurs still littering the room. "Nor why I should feel so guilty."

_No need to feel guilty, lambie-toes_, she seemed to hear. _Ain't done nothing wrong. Yet._

She carried the dinosaur to the bunk and sat down, not looking at it, just staring into the distance. Not so far in this small space, but it felt like she was seeing to the edge of the 'verse.

"He's a good man. I've always known that. But he reminds me of you too much. Not just being Serenity's pilot. But the way he talks, acts … if he had a stupid moustache I'd think it was you come back to haunt me."

_I think as a ghost I'd be sensitive enough not to include the facial hair._

"He nearly died. Like you."

_Not quite like me. Didn't get speared through the chest with a big wooden stake. If I'd been a vampire, I coulda understood it. But I don't even like the sight of blood. 'Specially my own._

"When I saw him there, lying on the floor, I was so angry. I could have shot him myself, just to make it clear to him how angry I was."

_Known that feeling myself. I mean, you about to shoot me because you're so angry with me. Coupla times I remember looking around just to make sure you weren't actually armed when I owned up to something. It was usually Mal's fault anyway._

"Then when Simon was about to operate, and his hand was shaking, I wondered what life would be like on board Serenity without him."

_But you didn't have to find out. Pumpkin, I understand._

"I don't understand." She put the dinosaur down on the bedside table and laid down, her hair billowing out around her.

_I love your hair. Always did. Wanted to be buried with it. Well, not exactly with it, you know. That would be kinda gross. But a lock of it. Wrapped around my finger, like I used to when we were makin' love._

"He annoys me. And that's what scares me. Because that's what you used to do."

_I worked hard at that. First time I saw you, standing there next to Mal, I knew I could use my wiles on you and make you really mad at me. 'Cause mad and love … well, they're pretty close._

She pulled off her shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. "And you were so damn good at it."

_You ain't gotten any tidier, have you? I always seemed to be picking up after you. And with you being a soldier 'n' all. Thought you'da known exactly where everything had to be kept. Maybe it was being married to me changed things._

"First time he stepped on board he started. Gave me a look that just made me want to shoot him there and then. Only Mal wouldn't have approved. He wanted a pilot, and Hank was the only one around with anything near decent qualifications." She put her arms above her head, her breasts moving up in her bra.

_Hey, you ain't shaved for a few days. Oh, I love that. Used to love running my fingers through it, particularly when you'd just come back from a job and were all sweaty. You used to hate it, call me perverted. Well, bring on the perversions, that's what I say! And hand me the geese!_

"And he hasn't stopped." She sighed. "Freya encourages him too. She says it because she can't bear to see people unhappy. She's happy, so everyone else has to be."

_That's not a bad attitude to have._

"Only she's had some sadness lately, and I don't like to see that."

_You didn't used to like her. You told me. Thought she was too close to Mal. I know how you felt. I always thought you were too close to Mal, too, 'til Niska kinda shocked it out of me. Sorry, bad joke._

"She'll be fine, and her and the Captain'll have kids."

_I'm sorry. I should have said yes when you told me. You'd have made such a great mom._

"You'd have made such a great dad. I wish …" She stopped. "But they'll be fine. Ain't likely to stop them, and this boat'll be filled with children running around, getting into all kinds of mischief before you know it."

_Well, you were a space baby. You should know._

"It never did me any harm, being born in space. Lived most of my life off-world, and I wish I could have made you see that."

_So do I, sweet cakes. And I agree – totally my fault. So shoot me now. Or impale me on a big wooden stick. Either way, I'm sorry._

"You could have taught them how to fly. Such a good dad …"

_Well, some would say that's because I never grew up. And I'd be answering them, why should I?_

She ran her hands through her hair, pulling at the slight tangles caused by the day. "Only I've kinda changed my mind. I don't want kids now, not if you're not the father."

_I should hope so too! You ain't even kissed the guy yet and you're talking kids here._

"I wonder what he kisses like?" She clamped a hand to her mouth, laughing. "Oh, God, did I really just say that? I must be more tired than I thought!"

_Well, it's been a hectic couple of weeks. Hell, even when I was alive it didn't get as bad. Least we had a coupla days off occasionally._

"I think I need a break. Somewhere warm. With a beach."

_A naked beach?_

"Just to recharge my batteries."

_Sounds good. Can I come?_

She lay still for a moment then touched her fingers to her lips. "I wonder what he tastes like?"

_Well, you could always find out. Not that I'm encouraging my wife to be unfaithful, but … dear, I have been dead a while. And although I ain't strictly pushing up the daisies, it is kinda time for you to move on. A little. I mean, not going any further than a peck on the cheek. Maybe just a quick lip lock – no tongues, though. And nothing … honey?_

She'd got to her feet and hurried up the ladder, not even pausing to grab her shirt.

She crossed the corridor and stood outside Hank's bunk, leaning on the wall, her head down. For once in her life she didn't know what to do.

"Zoe?" Mal asked, heading towards his bunk. "You okay?"

She stood straight. "Yes, sir. I'm fine."

"Only you're standing there looking like your favourite puppy just died. And you do seem to be somewhat … undressed."

She looked down at herself, barefoot and, worse, bare-chested. Well, nearly. "Um …"

Mal was so shocked he almost dropped the mug of coffee he was carrying. His first mate was never lost for words. And she appeared to be … dammit, yes, she was blushing!

"I think I must be sleep-walking, sir," she said firmly.

"Yeah. Right. I'm sure that's it. Outside Hank's cabin?"

"Yes sir."

"Makes total sense," he said, passing her and opening the hatch to his room. "Just don't catch cold."

"No sir." She turned and headed back to her own bunk, dropping down the ladder and closing the door firmly above her. Crossing the room she threw herself on her bunk and covered her head with the pillow.

_Ah. Didn't quite work out? No. Guess not. Still, there's time, sweetness. He ain't going anywhere. And neither are you._

There was a sigh in the room, and Zoe lifted her head from under the pillow, listening for a moment, but there was no-one there. Not for a long time.


	9. Inara

Inara closed the door to her shuttle and locked it tight. It didn't happen very often, as usually she left it open for anyone who wanted to talk, but right now she needed some time to herself. She particularly didn't want Mal barging in, not when she was in the middle of what she planned.

Setting out the candles, she lit them carefully, the scent of lavender and soft rosemary filling the room. Catching her long dark hair back in a silver clasp, shaped like a swan, she shook the padded mat out and placed it on the floor. She undid her robe and dropped it behind her, standing naked in the soft light. Running her hands across her flesh, she stretched upwards, trying to touch the ceiling before sitting gracefully cross-legged on the mat.

She closed her eyes and took in a breath, holding it until she felt a little dizzy, before blowing it out slowly until her lungs felt completely empty. Again she breathed in, exhaling and throwing away all the tensions of the last few days. And again, until she was light-headed with the oxygen in her system.

Then she opened her eyes. Placing her hands, palms up, in her lap, she brought to mind what Simon had told her.

_**Red Dress**_

"_I never knew anything could be so painful, Inara." He sat on the sofa, his hands tightly clasped. "Even when I've been shot it wasn't so bad. I knew there was an end to that, some hope of unconsciousness at least, but this … it was only going to get worse and I wasn't going to be able to stop it." He looked up at her. "I felt like my body was burning, all the skin sloughing away, only the nerves still there, consuming me." He was shaking. "And those men, they just … they were talking as if it was the most natural thing in the world. That they'd often held men … or … or women … at this point, when you're praying to go mad so that you don't feel it anymore."_

_Inara didn't touch him, but moved a little closer so he could feel her warmth. "They were evil, Simon," she said softly. "What they did was evil, and they died for it. Freya killed them both."_

"_I know." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I wish it had been me."_

"_No, Simon. You're a doctor. You saved Freya, and Hank."_

"_I wanted it to be me." He looked back at his hands, clenched so hard that his knuckles were white and his nails were leaving grooves in his skin. "I wanted to take a gun and …"_

"_And what?"_

_He shook his head. "I wanted to kill them. But I wanted to beg them to stop first."_

Inara breathed slowly, letting her body soothe itself.

_**Green Dress**_

"_I couldn't stop myself. They were asking these questions, and I was screaming at them, denying them everything I knew, but I told them. About everyone. About Kaylee, Bethany, you … everyone. If they hadn't died …"_

"_They can't hurt you any more, Simon."_

"_They took away my … my resolve. What makes me me. Simon Tam didn't exist, just this shell of a human being with no more power than a baby."_

The flickering candlelight threw shadows onto the wall, and she watched them turn themselves into figures, two men standing, a third in a chair. The hum from Serenity's engine turned into a silent scream.

_**Gold Dress**_

"_How can I be a proper father, Inara? Bethany needs a man who can protect her, keep her safe from all the terrible things out there." Simon was pacing the room, throwing his hands wide._

"_You will. You are." Inara watched him from where she sat. "She's healthy because of you. She's perfect, because you made sure of it. Freya told me what Lee said, that you were giving her medications to make sure. Bethany is perfect because you made her so."_

"_I wasn't even there when she was born!"_

"_But you're here now. And Kaylee will forgive you."_

_He turned to look at her, beseeching in his eyes. "How can you be so sure?"_

"_Because I know Kaylee. And I know you. You'll do the right thing and you'll be a proper family, the way it was always meant to be."_

"_And if I can't help River?"_

_Inara smiled a little. "Simon, everyone on this ship – and I mean everyone – is helping River. You'd be surprised."_

"_Everyone?"_

The shadows shifted to a man on a cliff, a girl next to him, her hair blowing in the wind. He stepped forward, his body falling forever.

_**Black Dress**_

"_I should leave. I should have left when Mal threatened to kill me the first time, not stayed here. So many people have been hurt because of me."_

"_And how many would be dead if you hadn't been here to save them?"_

"_Mal would have found another medic."_

"_Simon, he wasn't looking for a doctor at all. But he took you on board because you needed a place to be."_

"_To hide."_

"_Yes. But to help your sister too."_

"_Have I helped her?"_

"_Yes."_

"_But I betrayed them."_

"_Then ask forgiveness."_

She hadn't had to use this ritual, not for a long time. Normally what her clients told her were innocuous details of their lives, their hopes and fears, but nothing that would climb into her dreams. But the emotion that had poured from Simon, the pain and fear, the absolute desolation at having been so powerless, that she recognised. Not since Gregor, and the baby …

She lifted her hands in front of her breasts, cupping them as if catching water.

"I will not hold these images. They are not mine to keep. I give them to the stars, to the black, to the great unknown outside these walls."

She opened her hands, slowly letting all the pain and fear she had taken into herself flow away, a grey mist that dissipated in the air. Standing gracefully, she moved around the room and blew out the candles, until she stood alone in the dark, comforting silence.

---

--

-

Let your love flow outward through the universe,

To its height, its depth, its broad extent,

A limitless love, without hatred or enmity.

Then as you stand or walk,

Sit or lie down,

As long as you are awake,

Strive for this with a one-pointed mind;

Your life will bring heaven to earth.

_Buddhist Forgiveness Prayer_


	10. Freya

"Freya?"

She looked up and smiled at Simon. "Hi."

"Hi." He stepped into the galley. "Do you … have a minute?"

"Sure," she said, indicating the chair opposite her. "Just catching up on old news before I go to bed." She waved the Cortex pad at him.

"Hmmn. Anything interesting?" he asked, sitting down.

"Not really. No mention of your heroic and daring rescue."

Simon blushed, right to the tips of his ears. "I didn't rescue anyone."

"Yes, you did," she said softly. "And believe me, we're all very grateful."

He looked down at his hands, his doctor's hands, and composed himself. "Yes, well, I'm … I'm glad of that."

She tried hard not to laugh. "So what can I do for you?"

He looked back at her. "How's the scar?"

She shrugged. "Sore. But it's getting better." She tipped her head to one side slightly. "And you checked it this morning. So what's up?"

"I … that is, I …" He stumbled to a halt.

"Now this is something I thought I would never see," Freya said, smiling. "Never thought you'd be lost for words."

The blush receded from Simon's face, replaced by a slightly paler tone than usual. "I need to speak to you."

"Oh." Something in his voice had the smile dying on Freya's lips. "Something wrong, is there?"

"Maybe we should have Mal here," Simon said quickly.

"That bad, is it?" She took a deep breath. "Whatever it is, you'd better tell me."

"It's … I did some tests." He still couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"Right. And?"

He had to, just had to say it, get the words out that were crowding in his throat. "The injury you sustained, it … you may not be able to have children." He watched the colour drain from her face. "I'm sorry."

"I see." She sat so still she was barely breathing. "You're sure?"

"No, but … there's a lot of scar tissue, from earlier injuries as well as this one. Alice … her conception might prove to be … you may not be able to conceive again. I'm sorry." He hated this, hated having to give bad news. That was why he'd been a trauma surgeon – generally he had put people back together and sent them upstairs, or someone else had had to tell the relatives. And this was much, much worse.

"So no kids."

"There's no guarantees," he added quickly. "There's always a slim chance …"

"How slim?"

"Well …"

"Out of a hundred."

"I can't ..."

"As many as that." Her face was bleak. "Something else that's been taken away from me."

"Frey –"

"You don't tell him."

"What?" Simon was shocked. "No, look, Freya, Mal has a right to know."

"No. This is covered by that damn catch-all of doctor/patient confidentiality, right?"

"Well, I –"

"Right?"

"Yes," he admitted with little grace.

"Then you don't say anything." She twisted the engagement ring on her finger.

"You think if he knows he won't want to marry you?" Simon asked softly.

"Nothing to do with you," she said, dropping her head.

"Sometimes, Frey, you talk the worst amount of _fei hua_," Mal's voice said from the doorway.

Her head snapped up. "Shit," she breathed.

Her fiancé stood upright, his arms crossed. "Saw the young doctor here heading this way, looking mighty purposeful. Figured I might hear something to my advantage, so I kinda tagged along."

"Eavesdropped, you mean," she said, anger making her skin redden.

"Exactly that." He dropped his arms and stepped down into the galley. "You think it matters that much?" he asked, his voice soft.

She glared at him. "Of course it does!"

Mal looked at her for a moment then spoke to Simon, his gaze not leaving the woman in front of him. "Doc, I think little Bethany needs some attention."

Simon jerked, then realised he was being dismissed. "Yes, right. Better go and see to her then, hadn't I?"

"I think you should."

Simon stood up and hurried out. This was one conversation he didn't want to be around to hear.

"You gonna give that back to me again?" he asked at last, going down onto his haunches in front of her and touching the ring gently.

"Do you want it?"

"Frey, I've spent years telling you I didn't need you. Didn't want you. And more since telling you I don't wanna live without you. I admit, sounds a mite schizo, even to me, but that's how it's been. And ever since Alice … since she died, I've been trying to make you see that kids or not is fine by me. Not that I didn't want Alice – because I did, you know that. But kids – they're extra. What I want … what I _need_ is right here, in front of me. You, you _jien hro_."

She couldn't stop the smile flitting across her face. "That some kind of term of endearment?"

"That ain't nothing compared to what you've called me."

"With deep and honest feeling."

"Oh, I figured that much." He smiled at her. "Frey, I love you. I want to marry you. And I'll keep damn well telling you until all those stars out there turn cold."

"I love you too," Freya said softly, leaning forward to place her lips on his. She felt them open, and his tongue touched hers. Then she groaned slightly.

"What? What is it?" he asked, leaning back to look into her eyes.

"Pulling." She put a hand on her belly.

"Let me see." He took hold of her hand but she wouldn't move it. "Let me see."

"Mal, I …"

"You've been sleeping in those guest quarters since Simon let you out of the infirmary, and you ain't even let me see your scar. Don't you think that's a little crazy, even for you?"

"It's just …"

"Frey, I'm your captain. You want me to give you a direct order?" He watched her as she seemed to struggle with herself, then she looked up at him. "Or are you gonna do it for the man you love?"

A quick smile flashed across her face and was gone, replaced by … something else. "I'm scared, okay?"

"What of?"

"How close we came."

"To all dying?" he asked gently. "That ain't exactly unusual."

"No, we do lead interesting lives, don't we?" She glanced up at him, her eyes dark. "But this was close, Mal."

He nodded. He was never, in his life, going to forget seeing her on the ground, the wound in her chest bleeding so, believing that he would never love her again. "I know. And it is scary sometimes."

"And now this …" She dropped her head. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Not being able to give you the child you want."

He pulled the chair behind him and sat down. "Did you not hear a word I said?" he asked in exasperation.

"Mal, I –"

"Freya, you're gonna marry me. I intend to put a plain gold band alongside that ring, and I intend for it to be soon. _Dong mah_?"

Her lips twitched. "I love it when you're all masterful."

"Good. So tell me when."

"Soon."

"You keep saying that. You trying to make me beg? 'Cause I will. Down on both knees if you like."

This time she did smile. "Actually, I'd quite like to see that."

He looked deep into her eyes. "You're still scared, though, that's it, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Of it being you we bury on a dark moon somewhere."

"Well, I can't promise it won't happen. Life we lead, things go wrong sometimes. But I'll do my best not to let it. Not to any of us. Can't keep us from doing what we do, though. Or you from sleeping in my bed."

"Oh, that's just …" She stopped. "I'm sore," she explained, touching her belly.

"That's it? You afraid I'm going to have my wicked way with you?" Mal was shocked and surprised, but couldn't stop the smile on his lips.

"No," she explained. "Afraid I will. You aren't the only lecherous hump on board, you know."

"We can always be careful," Mal suggested.

"Since when have we been that?" Freya pointed out. "Even _Jayne_ complains sometimes."

Mal's lips twitched again. "That's no excuse. I was beginning to think you'd gone off me."

"I haven't so far."

"No." He grinned. "So, what does it look like?"

"What?"

"The scar."

"Well, I'm not sure –"

"No time like the present."

She gazed at him, and he felt her mind working, considering, then she sighed and sat back. "It's getting better but it's still not pretty."

"I'll try not to scream," he promised.

Smiling slightly she leaned back and pulled her shirt up out of her pants, exposing her midriff. Carefully she peeled off the dressing, wincing a little as it pulled at her skin. There it was, a dark red line running up the centre of her stomach to under her ribs, fragments of stitches still visible. It looked hot, and not a little painful. He reached out to touch it tenderly, remembering the wound it had been, so deep he thought he could see forever in it. She shivered. "Tickles," she said.

"The boy does good work."

"He does that."

"Remind me to thank him again, will you?" he said gently, looking into her face.

"I will."

"Now, you coming to bed? We don't even have to do anything, but I want you lying next to me." He got to his feet and held out his hand. She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet, ignoring the sharp tug at her insides. He didn't, though. "I mean it. I won't take advantage of you 'til you're well," he added, stepping closer to her and dipping his head to touch her lips.

"You keep doing that and I'll end up back in the infirmary," she said, smiling into the kiss. "Because I'll have been the one taking advantage."

"You planning on seducing me?"

"I'm working on it."

He laughed. "Frey, I love you. For all your quirks and foibles, for whatever comes our way … or doesn't. If'n we don't have kids, that's just the way the cards fall. We've got each other, and that's … well, that means the 'verse to me."

"You've been spending too many nights alone on the bridge," Freya said, laughing softly. "Staring out into the black's making a poet of you."

"Had to," he said, leading her towards their bunk. "Ain't got a pilot fit to fly a damn at the moment. Hank's still claiming to be incapacitated, River won't hardly even stay in the same room as me, and you … well, you're just a sorry case."

"That I am," she agreed, watching his backside as he walked along the corridor.

"Don't know why I want to marry you in the first place."

"Me neither."

He pushed the hatch open. "And we're both of us terrible bad liars," he said, reaching for her. "And Simon's been wrong before, you know."

"When?"

"Always a first time."


End file.
